Epilogue
by Bright Auburn Eyes
Summary: Post-Inheritance. Eragon and Saphira have left Alagaësia to start life anew and rebuild the dragons. A brief clip of where life has taken them twenty years down the road, including what has happened since then. Canon pairings. Short story to tie up some loose ends at the end of Inheritance and justify CP's ending.
1. Chapter 1

The sun rose slowly over the sleepy valley, casting a purple hue across the familiar landscape. Eragon quietly rose from his bed. He carefully slipped on his elven boots and padded silently across the room to the huge window on the far wall. He looked out at the horizon, his eyes tracing along the peaks and dips of the surrounding mountains.

With a nostalgic sigh, he remembered the day when they had first found this island only twenty years ago.

Saphira and Eragon had been flying ahead of the boat, loftily soaring above the world. They were vigilantly searching for a potential place to settle down. At that point it had been at least a week since they had left Alagaësia. It had been slow traveling with the lagging boat in tow. Eragon shared Saphira's desire to soar ahead of the elves, flying free until they found the destined location. However the possibility of unknown dangers were constantly lurking. Despite the fact that Blödhgarm and the others were quite competent in magic and able to defend themselves, the dragon eggs and Eldunarí were not. Were anything to arise, Saphira and Eragon would need to be there in a moments notice. The preservation of an entire race was invested in that boat's precious cargo, taking precedence over any other desire anyone else had.

It was around midmorning when Saphira gently nudged Eragon with her mind.

_Little one, look. _

Eragon followed Saphira's gaze. The Edda River had curved northward as they strayed farther away from their homeland and deeper into the unknown wilderness. Below them the river emptied into an enormous basin. It the center of that basin was a jagged island. There were sandy beaches around the outmost perimeter, but around 50 feet in that sand quickly disappeared, converting to towering cliffs. Eragon's curiosity spiked immediately. He expanded his mind down to the boat.

_Blödhgarm, Saphira and I are flying ahead to check out an island we see. The river empties into a basin about 10 miles from your current location_.

_Thank you, Shadeslayer. Go on ahead._

With that confirmation, Saphira sped on ahead towards the island. When they arrived, she first flew around the perimeter of the landmass. Eragon saw that cliffs surrounded the entire way around. Inside the cliffs sprung mountains, almost as large as those in the Spine. Saphira angled downward now, flying inland. Eragon cautiously opened his mind to the scene below him, searching for life. He was taken aback at the thousands of spikes of energy which indicated large mammals. He quietly slipped into the consciousness of one the animals at random to discover it was a deer. Jumping from consciousness to consciousness, the majority of animals were, in fact, deer. He was surprised that after ten minutes of searching to discover there were no predators on the island.

_That's a good thing. _Saphira interjected.

_What is?_ Eragon asked, jolted back into his own consciousness at Saphira's words.

_It's good there are no predators. That is a role a dragon can fill. _Eragon chuckled as Saphira's stomach then proceeded to let out a hungry rumble.

_I think you're just hungry, Saphira_.

In response, Saphira began to descend towards the island. Eragon spotted, amidst the mountains, in the very center of the island, was a gap.

_Fly towards that center part over there._

As they flew over the gap, Eragon gasped. Below them lay a thriving, green valley. A river ran right down the middle of the valley, trees blanketing the land. Eragon spotted a clearing for Saphira. With a quiet whoosh Saphira landed on the ground. Eragon unfastened his legs from the saddle and slid onto the grassy earth. He inhaled a breath of rich, clean air. For miles around he could feel only the presence of woodland animals. Recalling a spell Glaedr had taught him while scouting, Eragon began to cast a series of long, complicated phrases in the ancient language. The spells were used to detect if there was any poison in the air, water, or earth. They also could detect whether there was any source of magic nearby. As Eragon finished the last one he felt a slight drain on his energy. Eragon realized that every single spell had come back with positive results. This land was safe.

_I like this place. _Saphira finally breathed. _It_ feels safe.

After a moment Eragon responded with a newly discovered fervor. _No, it feels like home._

_Good morning, little one._

Eragon came back to reality as Saphira came up behind him, nudging the back of his head with her snout.

"Hello Saphira", Eragon whispered aloud. He turned around and lovingly ran his hand down the brilliant blue scales on her neck. Saphira hummed affectionately in response. Without another word Eragon climbed onto her back and she leapt out the third story window. She unfurled her majestic wings, steadily rising into the air. Eragon breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation of the wind tickling his face and mussing his hair.

They glided into the early morning air. Below them sprawled numerous buildings. At the far end of the valley was a solid, stone structure where the Eldunarí were housed. Inside the building were cubbies for each one, with chairs scattered around the base of the room so students could go consult with the dragons. Besides that building was a multiple story structure that had been sung out of the trees. This was where the dragon eggs were kept.

In the twenty years since they had settled on New Vroengard, 107 dragons had hatched. 17 of those 107 were linked with riders. The remaining 90 were wild, free to roam the island and do as they pleased. Dotting the walls of the cliffs surrounding the edge of the valley were many inlaid caves. Some riders chose to take a cave and with magic enforce barriers against weather . Most would smooth out the walls as well as burrow deeper into the mountain to enlarge to space. Others lived in rooms sung from the trees, not unlike the halls of Ellesméra.

The youngest riders lived in a large hall located on the East side of the valley. This hall was built from stone, one of the largest buildings constructed since they had arrived. It was built in a style that merged both elven and dwarf architecture, creating a unique building that had both flowing lines and solid structure. It contained hundreds of rooms with large openings where dragons could fly in and out at will. It was built in the hope of eventually reaching the paramount of glory and numbers that had existed in the previous generation of riders. However as of this point many of the rooms lay empty, waiting to be habituated.

On the East side laid fields where all the food for the valley was grown.

No one was yet awake as Saphira and Eragon glided over the land. They came to the edge of the valley and flew over the mountains. They continued to fly until they reached the westernmost part of the cliffs. There they landed on the shelf located on the top of the cliff. Eragon jumped off Saphira's back and gazed out into the distance.

He spotted the place where the Edda River poured into the massive lake. The lake reminded him of Dras Leona. It was so large that often Eragon couldn't even see the other side. Right above the mouth of the river, Eragon spotted a flash of vivid red soaring through the sky.

Eragon did a double take to see a bright red dragon flying towards them. Below the dragon was a boat flying a familiar flag.

_Looks like we have company_

_**A/N **Thanks for reading thus far. Let me know what you think! Love, Bae (Bright Auburn Eyes)_


	2. Chapter 2

Nasuada stood at the prow of the boat, gazing out across the rushing river. Up ahead she saw the place Eragon had spoken of in his letter, where the river flowed into a basin. A splash of cold water sprayed her russet cheeks. She felt a familiar pressing on her mind and quickly let him into her consciousness.

_I can see the island from here. Saphira and Eragon are there waiting for us. _

_Thank you, Murtagh. _

Nasuada felt excitement well up inside as the boat left the river, floating into the larger body of water. It had been twenty years since Eragon and Saphira had left. So much had changed in such a brief time.

Since the fall of Galbatorix the Empire had been utterly transformed. The challenges of establishing rule had been an uphill battle for the first five years. There were finances to organize, treaties to establish, magic to control, spies to ferret out… The list went on and on. Nasuada breathed a sigh of relief that those were not problems she faced anymore. After years of sleepless nights and establishing control for the good and protection of her people, Nasuada finally had reached a place of calm. It had all fallen into place that one summer night fifteen years ago. Nasuada closed her eyes, allowing her mind to wander back to that dreamlike evening.

The sun had been setting over Ilirea as Nasuada flopped down onto the couch by the balcony in her quarters. It had been a long day of organizing control of trade routes, primarily with Surda. Working with Orrin was a frustrating experience that always left Nasuada tired at the end of the day. She dismissed Farica for the evening, simply desiring to be alone in the quiet of her own mind.

After a few minutes she stood up and sauntered out to her balcony, watching as the dwarf lanterns appeared as balls of light scattered around the city. Her eyes looked to the heavens.

In the distance she then saw an out of place color, so brightly contrasted from the deep purple of the darkening sky. Vivid scarlet emerged from the clouds and Nasuada gazed with wonder to see a dragon with his rider descending towards her.

"Murtagh…" she breathed to herself as a flutter of conflicted emotions bubbled up inside of her. Even in the past few years as new dragons had hatched, in turn selecting their riders, to Nasuada's knowledge Thorn was still the only red dragon bound to a rider. It had been years since Murtagh had been seen. There were always rumors circling around the kingdom of the legendary red rider, who in the most critical moment betrayed the king, and allowed the Varden to reach victory. Although many were still wary of his existence, Murtagh had become a mysterious figure of legend. Feared, but admired, by all mortal men.

Murtagh had all but vanished off the face of Alagaësia. With the exception of scraps of stories murmured around a campfire from questionable village drunkards and vagabonds, Murtagh did not exist anymore.

And yet here he was, flying towards Nasuada on his brilliant red dragon. When he took off so suddenly all those years ago, Nasuada had found herself lost. In Murtagh's place there was a jagged hole in her life that he had filled. She missed the kindness and care he had showed her throughout her imprisonment, the loving touch of his mind to warn her when her torturer was coming, and the late night conversations where there had been nothing between them, where she could listen as he poured out his heart and soul unto her. The bond they had formed had changed Nasuada. When he was suddenly ripped from her life, nothing else could take his place. The long hours of work never seemed to make a difference. By the end of the day Murtagh was still gone, and Nasuada still had that small piece of emptiness that sometimes felt strong enough to swallow her whole. Nasuada knew somewhere deep down that no matter how prosperous the kingdom grew or how beloved a ruler she grew to be, she would never be truly happy unless she filled that hole.

As Murtagh flew near, her heart fluttered. She stood there and waited for him to come closer, fighting the urge throw her consciousness to him. Every fiber of her being desired to feel his presence in her mind. Then without warning an unforgettable consciousness pressed against hers. There were no words following the touch of his mind, merely emotion. The cold, empty pit of anger that had for so long been the most dominant feature of Murtagh's mind was no longer present. His mind felt different, but undeniably his. The anger had dissolved into remorse and that remorse had evolved into peace. In merely brushing his mind, Nasuada could sense the enormous change in Murtagh that had happened over the past five years. Instead of shying away, Murtagh embraced Nasuada's probing touch, inviting her more deeply into his mind. Nasuada was gently whirled into Murtagh's memories. Memories of wandering through long forgotten wilderness, of welling anger spilling over like a flood, of working through his rage, his thirst for revenge, of peace that came with thought and time with Thorn. His memories enveloped her for a few minutes. She was surprised at the sense of calm that had become such a part of Murtagh's consciousness. He was no longer the angry, powerless servant of Galbatorix that Nasuada had known while being kept in Urû'baen. But he was still Murtagh, that much had not changed.

Nasuada finally opened her eyes again, and Murtagh stood in front of her on her balcony.

"You highness, " he said with a bow, and then stood, his eyes boring deeply into hers.

"Murtagh," Nasuada breathed quietly, unable to meet his fervent gaze, unsure of how to respond for a moment, before saying, "Please call me Nasuada."

Conversation felt so hallow, so shallow, after being so fully enveloped in Murtagh's mind. After being dunked into a warm bath of vivid emotion and passion, the cold air of mere conversation was a chilly plunge back into reality.

There was silence. Neither moved nor spoke. Finally Nasuada gathered her courage and met Murtagh's eyes.

"You left," she said blatantly. Nasuada had not intended to accuse him, but without meaning to the silent indictment had crept into her voice. Murtagh dropped his gaze. A look of pain broke across his face as though Nasuada had slapped him. Guilt immediately overtook Nasuada but before she could apologize Murtagh began to speak.

"I needed time to come to terms with everything that had happened, Nasuada. Thorn and I needed to figure out who we were. It was the first time Thorn and I ever got to spend time together without Galbatorix invading every thought, making perverse every good memory Thorn and I had. I needed time to let go of the anger that for so long had taken me over. I needed to destroy the monster I had become. You were the first step along that journey. Back when you were imprisoned, my desire for you to be free finally gave me something to live for. It gave me a reason to keep fighting after I had given up. You were the only thing in my life that wasn't a losing battle. If not for you, I may have never been able to grow and change to become who I am now. I left, but now I'm back."

Nasuada watched as he looked up to meet her stare. Cautiously Nasuada let down the barriers around her mind. She reached out to find Murtagh and then gently led him inside of her consciousness. Without words she led him through the memories of the last few years. Of the problems she faced in ruling, of the way she worked tirelessly to make the land safe and prosperous, and finally of the emptiness that had grown inside her when Murtagh had left. Finally she showed him that she understood. He was forgiven. Murtagh gently untangled himself from Nasuada's mind. A smile stretched across his face.

Without warning Murtagh pulled Nasuada into a warm embrace. Nasuada immediately stiffened at the physical contact, as it was something quite foreign to her. But then Murtagh's mind brushed against her own and she realized that as mysterious as Murtagh was believed to be, he was still Murtagh. The comfort she had felt in his presence all those years ago had never vanished. Like magic, relief seeped through her veins as she relaxed into his arms, slowly wrapping her own arms around his muscular torso. She inhaled the calming scent of his skin, drawing her back to memories of dark days before Empire had fallen, to the days when Murtagh had been the only ray of sunshine in that forsaken dungeon. From that moment on Murtagh had reentered her life. She had no intention of letting him leave for an indefinite amount of time ever again.

Through the years they grew close beyond belief. Murtagh was taken into her palace, serving as the sole confident and best friend of the queen herself. The people were slow to accept him. He spent much of his time either hidden away in the castle or flying with Thorn. However they eventually grew to accept Murtagh as a constant figure. If Nasuada traveled anywhere, Murtagh and Thorn were close behind.

Nasuada could not recall a specific moment when her relationship with Murtagh had changed from friendship to something more. It gradually happened as the years blurred together. It started with a casual slip of the hand, their fingers intertwined as they walked together through the moonlit gardens in Ilirea. It progressed to midnight conversations that stretched into all hours of the night. The divulged unto each other their deepest secrets and greatest fears.

Nasuada specifically remembered one night twelve years ago. It had been late; a storm was blowing through the capital. A clap of thunder had echoed through the night and awaked Nasuada. She bolted upright with a start, clutching her blanket around her shivering body. The window in her chamber had been flung open and rain was pouring in through the gapping hole. Nasuada clambered out of bed towards the window, sliding along the wet floor. She reached the low-silled window and with all her might tried to shut it closed. The wind, however, had an idea of it's own. Nasuada pulled as hard as she possibly could but the window would not budge. Wind and rain whipped angrily against Nasuada's scarred, trembling arms.

Nasuada attempted to take a step closer to get a better grip of the window, her goal being to lean against the edge of the window for more support. However when she set her foot down it slid against the slippery, wet stones. She skidded forward and her shins hit the bottom ledge of the window. Her body tumbled forward into the manic storm. Nasuada felt panic jolt through her body as she reached out to grasp something, anything, that could stop her from falling to her death out of a seventh story window. Her right hand grasped the window latch, a small handle jutting out of the frame. Under her weight the frame shuddered, but unbelievably held up. Without a force pulling the window any specific way, it whipped back and forth in the wind, dragging Nasuada along like a flimsy, limp doll. She focused all her energy on merely holding on. She automatically reached out her consciousness to find someone, anyone, who could help her. Right down the hall she sensed Murtagh. Without a moment to wonder what he was doing awake or why he was out in the hallway, Nasuada mentally shouted will all her might.

_Murtagh! _She cried frantically. Without bothering to explain she sent him an image of where she was, intermingled with the panic of the situation. Nasuada felt immediate concern radiating from him.

Murtagh bolted down the hallway. He ripped open the door to Nasuada's chamber and crossed the room in a matter of three bounds. Nasuada forced herself to stay as still as possible despite her mounting panic. The frame shuddered again with an ominous creak.

_Murtagh, please hurry! _Nasuada thought, slowly being overtaken by fear. The storm howled relentlessly in her ears. Behind her Murtagh gripped the curtain rod with one strong arm, and the other one reach out for Nasuada. His feet were perched precariously on the edge of the windowsill. The window groaned again in the furious wind.

Murtagh lowered himself into a crouch. The storm was too loud for Nasuada to hear anything he was saying so he touched her with his mind.

_Nasuada, I need you to give me one of your hands._ Nasuada looked up at her slippery fingers and finally nodded, knowing it had to be done. With one surge of courage she let go and reached out for Murtagh's arm. She came into contact with his warm, rain soaked skin. His strong hand clasped firmly around her wrist. Murtagh fought against the wind to pull the window in. After a few minutes of fighting unyieldingly to the wind, Murtagh had managed to pull the window in close enough to snake his muscled arm around Nasuada's waist.

With his newly gained leverage he heaved her body towards her. With her added weight they tumbled backwards, inside Nasuada's chamber. The window slammed shut behind them. They landed together on the floor. Nasuada's entire body was shaking, freezing water soaking her garments. It took them both a few moments to catch their breath. Finally Nasuada looked over to Murtagh, a fire in her eyes.

"Thank you, Murtagh. I owe you my life," Nasuada finally murmured warmly. Murtagh ran his hand through his mass of wind blown, dampened hair. Murtagh looked at her, sitting up.

"It's only fair. It's to you I owe the happiness I have found," Murtagh finally responded heavily, a passion burning in his voice. Nasuada gradually pulled herself off the floor. Murtagh stood. Dictated by chivalry, he made move to head for the door before Nasuada stopped him. Her dark, trembling hand gently grasped his strong arm.

"Wait a second, before you go," she said. She them scuffled behind a curtain, slipping off her soaked gown and replacing it with a clean, dry one. When she came back out Murtagh stood there waiting for her. She started walking towards him, but her foot got caught on the edge of a rug. She stumbled forward and Murtagh caught her in steady arms.

"I guess I simply can't keep myself together tonight," Nasuada mumbled, embarrassment coloring her voice. Without another word Murtagh pulled her close to his body

"That's okay. You're more together than you realize. You're wonderful," Murtagh whispered into her ear. A blush crept into Nasuada's cheeks. Murtagh then proceeded to sweep her off her own, shaky feet. He cradled her affectionately in his arms, holding her close to his chest. Nasuada was too weary to protest. She allowed herself to melt into his warm, tender embrace. He pulled back the covers and laid Nasuada in her bed, tucking a heavy blanket around her. Nasuada felt a sense of emptiness return as she left the safe confines of Murtagh's arms.

"Is there anything else, Nasuada?" he asked tenderly, Nasuada lifted her head to catch his eyes.. She felt her sense of reality slowly slipping away as she found herself lost in his affectionate stare. Nasuada let herself be overcome by the intensity of his dark, warm eyes. After a moment she snapped back into reality, in all its relentless glory. As she came back to the real world, that fear that she had, for the most part, kept at bay throughout the entire experience finally took its toll. Her face paled and weariness overcame her body. The most noticeable effect was the gripping terror that overtook her mind, as to fear what may happen if Murtagh left again.

With Murtagh came peace and safety. The second he walked out that door she would once again be forced to face the unforgiving demands and struggles of the world all alone.

"Would you…" Nasuada started, "Would you stay with me?" she quickly finished, as an embarrassed flush crawled up her cheeks. She looked away, afraid to meet Murtagh's eyes. What would she see there? Confusion? Rejection? Incredulity? She then felt Murtagh's strong hand cup her chin and pull her face up to meet his eyes, those deep, searching, heartwarming eyes. His face showed none of the things she may have been expected. Instead she saw warmth overcome his face. All distance melted away as he nodded with a loving smile. He sat down next to her on the bed and brushed the hair gently away from her face.

"Of course," he whispered devotedly. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. Nasuada's arms enclosed around Murtagh's neck and she pulled his face close to hers. Murtagh's lips crashed down onto hers sweetly. The kiss lasted but a moment before Nasuada pulled away. She let out a satisfied hum but refused to unlock her arms from Murtagh's neck.

"You're not going anywhere," she purred. Murtagh chuckled quietly before laying down beside her. Nasuada shifted slightly as to wrap her arms around his chest instead, and laid her head on the place right above his heart, her entire body pressed softly against his. Murtagh brought his left arm around Nasuada's body, holding her more closely to him. His right hand then began to trace gentle patterns affectionately on her back as she started to drift into unconsciousness.

He stayed with her that night as she slept in the comfort of his arms. After an hour or two Murtagh reluctantly untangled himself from her sweet embrace. He made sure to wrap her up tightly in a blanket so she would not catch a chill and then he settled into the chaise in the corner of the room. He wanted to keep his promise without arising any suspicion of scandal, as that was the farthest from the truth. He watched over her as long as he could before dozing into a light sleep. His dreams were filled with thoughts of Nasuada.

After that night things were different. Nasuada and Murtagh had grown closer than ever and they could no longer deny their evident, passionate feelings for one another. Finally Murtagh realized the only way to make them both happy would be through properly courting Nasuada. He proposed marriage. This was no easy request considering Nasuada was the queen and Murtagh was a dragon rider.

The next year involved many political conflicts surrounding the intended marriage. From the dwarves' desire to kill Murtagh to the implications that lay with a rider having political preferences, many were in an uproar at the mere suggestion of such a course of action. Another issue that arose was that in event of Nasuada's inevitable death, would Murtagh, an immortal rider, take the throne? Eventually it was decided that when that did happen, the crown would skip over Murtagh, which was perfectly all right with him. He had no desire to rule. He desired Nasuada and her happiness and safety. A mixture of groveling and political bribery settled the feud with the dwarves. After bringing to light Eragon's oath of fealty, many realized it was impossible to separate the human riders from their loyalty to their native land and countrymen.

Nasuada took a deep breath, bringing herself back to reality. The ship sailed through the basin. The excitement welled in Nasuada in anticipation of seeing Eragon.

_**A/N **Reviews encourage me to keep writing. I want to know what you think! Thanks. Love, Bae_


	3. Chapter 3

"Wake up, love," Roran spoke softly into Katrina's ear. Katrina rolled over, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. In wordless communication she stretched out her arms to embrace Roran. Roran gently pulled Katrina into his lap; smoothing her out of control, copper colored hair.

Even after twenty years, age had done nothing to diminish Katrina's beauty. The slight crinkles around her eyes, cheeks, and forehead were barely noticeable to Roran. The strands of gray that were beginning to appear were merely an indication of wisdom, not age. Roran knew that nothing could ever make him stop thinking that Katrina was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"We're almost there," said Roran. Katrina breathed a sigh of relief. She was eager to be out of the tight cabin and back on solid ground. As the trip had been quite long, both Katrina and Roran were grateful that their youngest child was five years old. Traveling that distance on a boat with an infant would have been a nightmare.

With a sigh Roran thought back to how things had changed over the past twenty years. Katrina had born him seven strong children, four boys and three girls.

Ismira, their eldest daughter, was born right after the war ended. Soon after that the village had returned to the Palancar Valley to start life anew.

Roran, with the title of earl, established control over the entire area. He had responsibilities such as managing local trade, solving any problems that arose, and communicating to Queen Nasuada in the capital as to all the significant on-goings of the valley. This had required Roran to finally learn how to read and write, much to his chagrin.

They had settled down in Caravahal, as nowhere else would ever be home. Over the first ten years Roran labored to build a castle on the hill adjacent to the remains of the farmhouse where Roran had spent his childhood. It was a modest castle, at that, but a castle nonetheless, built of hewn stones, surrounded by fields for crops. Roran had accumulated a small fortune after the war, as found in his new position as earl. This wealth allowed Roran to hire some of the strong, young men back in Caravahal to work in the fields. Roran, however, never gave up farming for himself. Even after a tedious morning of settling a potential blood feud or hours of pouring over letters from Nasuada, deciphering the cryptic runes, Roran desired nothing better to spend the afternoon in the fields. The manual labor helped him not to grow soft, and his hard work paid off, as they grew prosperous with each passing harvest. Roran and his family did not alone feel the prosperity, for after the first two or three or so grueling years of trying to bring back Caravahal from nothing many were able to reestablish businesses and households. By the ten-year mark it was as if they had never left in the first place.

Two years after they arrived back in Caravahal, their second child, and first son, was born. In honor of his father, Roran had dubbed the boy Garrow. With time came more children. There was Milo, three years younger than his older brother, followed by Alwin, two years younger than Milo. Next came Rose, closely followed by Thea. Finally the youngest boy, Larkin.

Roran thought of how starkly different each of his children were from each other.

Ismira was the spitting image of her mother. Her bright auburn hair and glowing brown eyes had quickly made her the most beautiful girl in Caravahal. However there was no doubt that she was her father's daughter, as indicated by her bold, fearless personality. Ismira never had any desire to stay home with her mother or younger sisters. She thrived in exhilarating adventure and activity, whether joining her brothers on a hunt or wandering through the enchantingly haunted trails on the fringe of the Spine. As a blossoming, young woman of twenty, she was already betrothed to a young man by the name of Matthew, the son of the local innkeeper back in Caravahal. The wedding was to take place when they returned from this voyage.

Garrow was almost the inverse of Ismira. With his solid jawline, muscled build, and dark brown hair, he looked exactly like a younger version of his father. And yet there was nothing Garrow preferred better than a day around the fireside, chatting with his mother and helping her in the kitchen.

Fifteen-year-old Milo and thirteen-year-old Arwin, being only two years apart, spent most of their time together. The brothers were constantly getting into trouble. Whether it was leaping from roof to roof across the thatched dwellings of Caravahal or sneaking into the kitchen to steal extra biscuits when Katrina's back was turned, there was no end to the amount of mischief they were capable of.

Rose and Thea were practically twins, being born in the exact same year. Being 9 and 8 years old, respectively, the two girls did not spend much time away from their mother. Katrina found her joy in raising her girls in the house. The younger girls had much more patience to sit and knit or cook, much unlike their older sister.

Last of all there was Larkin. From the day he had been born there was something different about him. Roran could clearly remember that fateful day. Old Gertrude was hunched over Katrina, patiently coaxing her through the painful experience of childbirth for the seventh time. Gertrude had few concerns, as all previous births had been without difficulty. Katrina was a strong woman. Then, without warning, a look of absolute dread overtook Gertrude's weary face. Katrina was far too preoccupied to notice, but Roran could not overlook the terrified expression.

"Gertrude, what is it?" Roran asked frantically. Gertrude simply shook her head, tears seeping out of the corners of her eyes. Below she grasped the child as his head had finally emerged. With a final push, the baby landed in Gertrude's arms. She began to sob uncontrollably. The baby lay quiet in her arms, his eyes closed.

"Gertrude, tell me what is wrong!" Roran demanded, confused why the baby had not yet made a sound.

With a muffled cry Gertrude finally responded, "I'm so sorry Roran. The child has no heartbeat. It is stillborn…" Roran had felt like someone had jabbed a sword through his gut. His face fell as a ball of despair formed in his stomach. Gertrude handed the unmoving child to Roran and then proceeded to roll up her sleeves and cut the umbilical chord, sobbing unhappily as she did so.

"Roran…" came a feeble, tired voice, "Is something wrong? Bring the child here, I want to see."

_Oh no_ Roran despaired. He could only imagine the terrible heartbreak Katrina would feel were she to see her newborn child lying cold and quiet in her weary arms. Roran looked down hysterically, praying for a miracle. Without warning, the baby's eyes fluttered open to reveal glowing, gray orbs gazing up curiously at Roran. Roran was taken aback by how alert the eyes were, staring at Roran with uncanny recognition. But Roran did not have any second thoughts. The only thing he could feel was a pang of joy that his son was alive. Immediately the grief evaporated into a gushing waterfall of happiness. He bounded to Katrina's side, depositing the eerily attentive baby in her arms. And thus Larkin was brought into this world.

As Larkin grew, he continued to be different from other children. He was constantly alert, always aware of the world around him. Larkin never took part children's games of fantasy or make-believe. He instead preferred observing others at play or work. He was a strange hybrid between his mother and father. His ginger mane grew uncontrollably out of his head, yet he had his father's inscrutable gray eyes. He possessed a sense of maturity and mindfulness most often found only in adults. It often seemed to Roran that Larkin had an adult's mind in a child's body. Larkin reminded him of Elva when she was a child.

Larkin also had the tendency to be found in the midst of strange, inexplicable occurrences.

Roran recalled an instance from when Larkin was three years old. Katrina had put him down for a nap and Larkin had climbed out of his cradle. When Katrina came back an hour later to check on him, she was distraught to see that her toddler was not where she left him. She searched feverishly for any sign of where her little darling had disappeared. After half an hour of frenzied searching around the castle and grounds, with help from all the other children, it was determined that somehow Larkin had escaped their property. Garrow had run straight to town, alerting all the villagers who quickly jumped in to help with the search. The search in the village continued for another five hours.

The entire village was thoroughly torn apart before searchers started marching into the outskirts of the Spine. Many were starting to assume the worst, and began looking for the child's body. What other explanation would suffice? No child in his or her right mind would wander so far from home and not come when called. The sun would soon be setting as Roran and Katrina's worry grew into desperation. Roan, Ismira, Garrow, Milo, and Arwin formed their own search party and set into the Spine.

It was Ismira who finally found the child. She had broken off from the main group and headed down a trail she remembered finding when she was younger. The path was steep and wound through a dark mass of trees. It dumped into a clearing where the day's last rays of sunlight were streaming through the green canopy above her. She breathed a sigh of relief to see Larkin in the clearing. Ismira was taken aback to see Larkin playing with two Urgal children.

"Larkin!" Ismira cried out breathlessly. "We've been looking everywhere for you!" She then rushed to his side. The two Urgal children watched her quizzically. Ismira was astonished at how human they looked. Besides the gray tint of their skin, it was difficult to tell the difference, as the young Urgals did not have horns.

"I apologize Ismira," Larkin responded casually in a smooth voice. As always, Ismira was surprised at how eloquent her three-year-old brother was. He spoke without hesitation, perfectly annunciating each syllable. It was so developmentally different from any other toddler she knew.

Larkin continued, "Tarok and Maghara here simply wanted to play a few games, what's the harm in that?" Larkin then looked up at Ismira innocently, his gray eyes boring into her own. Ismira was not sure how to respond. Finally after a moment of silence she let out a huff.

"Fine, Larkin. But don't you dare do that again! We were worried sick about you. We thought you had fallen into the river and drowned or been eaten by some wild beast. Mother and father are terribly upset and the entire village dropped what they were doing to go look for you! You have caused an enormous amount of trouble."

In the distance sounded a horn. Tarok and Maghara perked up at the sound, before glancing back to Larkin. They whispered to him quietly in their own, coarse tongue. Ismira listened in shock as Larkin responded fluently in the guttural, rough Urgal language. Without further delay the Urgal children scampered back through the words towards the sound of the horn.

"Alright, sister," Larkin said calmly, "You have no reason to fret, I am here now. Let us head home, I am hungry for supper." Ismira shook her head at Larkin's nonchalant attitude, as if this were something that happened everyday. She swept him off his feet and headed back home. It had been a year or two before Ismira had the courage to tell anyone what had really happened that day.

There was another instance one morning a year ago. Katrina had gone to wake Larkin up and had found a large, tabby, shaggy, female werecat sleeping soundly besides the boy. The second Katrina entered the room the creature's eyes popped open and attentively watched Katrina. Larkin then rolled over, raising a small hand to scratch the werecat affectionately behind the ears. She let out a hearty purr in response.

Without even looking over to Katrina Larkin simply replied, "Do not worry, Mother. Kyatt will be good." From that moment on, Larkin was never seen without the creature. Many in the village were uneasy about the werecat, however Roran and Katrina realized that even if they had wanted to, they could not force Kyatt to leave. After their experiences with werecats during the fall of the empire, they thought it better to leave Kyatt be, as they knew the ferocity that could be found in angering a werecat. She was in no way hurting the child. She most often stayed in cat form, however it was not all that unusual to see Larkin wandering into the woods with a small, red headed girl.

Roran and Katrina were not sure what to think of Larkin. Of course they loved him beyond belief. He was their son. They would always love him no matter what. However it was difficult to overlook how unusual the young boy was. He was nothing like any child they had ever seen before. Even though they both worried about Larkin, there was nothing they believed they could really do but raise the boy the best they knew how and hope he wouldn't wander into trouble.

Roran breathed in the delicious smell of Katrina's hair and was brought back to the present. He planted a kiss on her soft, warm cheek. Katrina turned her head and kissed Roran solidly on the lips. Roran felt himself melt into her kiss. He wrapped his arms tightly around her small body and kissed her deeply in return. After a moment he pulled back.

"Let's go up on deck, love," he said, smiling down at his beautiful wife. Katrina nodded in response. Roran stood up and set her gently on her feet. Hand in hand they made their way to the deck of the ship.

**A/N**

_Thank you to eragon0123 for catching a discrepency between this fanfic and Inheritance. I said before that there were 107 new dragons hatched, and that the majority of them were bound to riders. That figure was incorrect, as I misread Inheritance. Only 26 dragons were to be bound to riders. I went back and corrected it, but to all you who read the version before it was corrected, there are now 17 dragons bound to riders, the rest remaining wild. That isn't all that important yet, however it will come into play later in this fic._

___I promise the next chapter will not be only flashbacks for all of you that want to see how things have turned out in the future. ____My goal is to update this story at least once a week, if not more. _

_Lastly, I'd love to know what you think! Do you like Larkin? Do you enjoy this story? Reviews encourage me to keep writing like nothing else does. _

_Yours truly, Bae_


	4. Chapter 4

"It was the cantaloupes! It's always the cantaloupes!" Angela exclaimed shrilly from behind Nasuada. Nasuada whipped around in surprise.

"Angela! What are you doing here?" Nasuada replied. Nasuada had not seen that strange, little herbalist since the fall twenty years ago. She had disappeared the moment the war had ended, as if into thin air. Nasuada was surprised to see that even after twenty years, Angela didn't look a day over nine-and-twenty. Until that very moment, Nasuada hadn't even known that Angela was on the ship.

"Oh this and that…" Angela responded vaguely with a toothy smile. Solembum rubbed against Angela's legs besides her. He seemed to be amused by the entire situation. Nasuada folded her arms over he chest and watched Angela suspiciously.

"Pish-posh. Don't give me that look; you couldn't really expect me to stay behind. I like to be around when thing are happening." Angela stated matter-of-factly.

"How long until we arrive?" a cool voice from behind Nasuada crooned. Nasuada turned around to see a thin, gangly young woman. The woman's raven hair fell to shoulder length, with bangs covering her pale brow. She was dressed unusually for a woman. She had leggings and a shirt instead of a dress. Over her clothing was black leather armor. At her side hung a thin, black sword.

The woman turned to face Nasuada. Those unforgettable purple eyes sparked a tidal wave of memories.

"Elva!" Nasuada exclaimed, "How did you get here?"

Elva shrugged nonchalantly. "Angela found me a few weeks ago, asked if I was up for a trip. I decided why not."

Nasuada let out an exasperated huff, unsure how to handle these change of events. She did think that Elva or Angela proved a danger to this visit. The location of New Vroengard was one of the most well kept secrets in Alagaësia. Despite the flighty and undependable nature the two woman tended to have, Nasuada was pretty sure she could trust them. She had no choice but to trust them at this point. They had nearly arrived.

"Nasuada, you can trust us," Elva said in a quiet voice, gazing thoughtfully at the queen, "We have no intention of giving away New Vroengard's location. Both Angela and myself understand how important it is to let Eragon, the dragons, and the new riders have all the space and secrecy they need. We're on your side."

Nasuada let out a breath, the young woman's words striking every single thought of worry that had crossed her mind. Nasuada shook her head, recognizing Elva exercising her precise art of persuasion.

"Fine," Nasuada finally sighed, "We should land in about fifteen minutes."

The trip thus far had been uneventful. The passengers included Roran, Katrina, and their family, King Orik along with his guards, Nasuada and her guards, Murtagh, Thorn, the captain, and crew of the ship, and the recently discovered Elva and Angela. It was a small party. This was Nasuada's first venture to New Vroengard. Eragon had sent her numerous fairths and letters, giving Nasuada an idea of what to expect. Murtagh had served as an ambassador of sorts between the kingdom and the riders. He spent most of his time in Alagaësia, however he made a trip out to New Vroengard about once every two years or when a dragon hatched for a new rider. Then Murtagh would serve as an escort for the new rider and dragon, bringing them here.

Nasuada watched Angela and Elva walk together down the deck. She was surprised to see them stop midway along the ship. Besides them was a small boy, squatting on the deck. He seemed to be studying the grain of the wood below him. A small ginger girl was whispering something in his ear. Nasuada was even more surprised when Elva sat down besides the boy. She believed the child was Roran's youngest son, but she couldn't be certain. She had never seen the young girl before. Nasuada felt a sense of unease creep upon her, wondering what else about this trip she did not know.

Above her a gust of wind blew through her hair. She looked up to see Thorn flying alongside the boat. Murtagh slid his legs out of the saddle and with a tremendous leap, cleared the space between Thorn and the boat. He landed on the deck with a soft thud. With two long strides he crossed over to Nasuada.

He slipped his warm, callused hand into Nasuada's.

"Take a deep breathe, it's all going to be okay, " Murtagh murmured soothingly. Nasuada let out a small smile. Murtagh's ability to perceive Nasuada's feelings so well from mere facial expression was nearly as accurate as Elva's gift. Nasuada nodded.

With a soft bump, the hull of the boat scraped against the bottom of the lake.

"Queen Nasuada, " the captain addressed Nasuada, "We need to anchor the ship here, it's too shallow closer to shore. Shall I prepare a rowboat?"

"No need, Captain Matthews," Nasuada replied, "There is no point to going up on the shore. The only way to the center of the island is by flight, according to Eragon. He should come meet us any minute now."

As soon as the words left Nasuada's mouth, a great gust of wind assailed the boat. She lifted her eyes to the sky to see a great, sapphire dragon flying towards them. On the dragon's back sat a friend of old.

_Let's go give them a proper welcome_ Eragon thought to Saphira. The sun was high in the sky by this point. It was almost noon. After seeing the boat this morning, Eragon and Saphira had flown back to the valley to make sure all the preparations were in order.

Studies had been disrupted in order to prepare for the company. They rarely received visitors, making this a very special occasion. By seven thirty the entire valley was awake and busily readying rooms and preparing food for the feast that was to take place that evening. When Eragon was satisfied that everything was taken care of, he and Saphira flew back to cliffs.

_You're excited_ Saphira noted with a rumbly chuckle.

_It's been so long…. How could you expect me not to be?_ Eragon responded. With that Saphira leapt off the cliff. She tilted forward and dove towards the ground. They free fell for about five seconds before Saphira extended her wings fifty feet from the ground. The air caught under them with a heavy snap before Saphira began to fly forward. They approached the boat that was anchored about seventy-five feet from the shore.

As they flew nearer, Eragon heard shouts of welcome from the ship. Thorn was circling above them in the air. Finally they flew right up next to the boat. Eragon unfastened his legs from the saddle. He then leaped across the gap between Saphira and the boat in one fluid motion.

Before him stood Nasuada, Murtagh, Roran, and Orik. Eragon slowly scrutinized each of them carefully. Nasuada had aged well. Despite her being almost forty years old, she did not look quite her age. Her dark skin showed few wrinkles, her body remained lean and muscled. Her eyes revealed her true age, wisdom and experience shining within. She watched Eragon carefully.

Murtagh stood beside Nasuada, his hand intertwined in hers. His appearance was more expected, as Eragon saw him relatively often, in comparison to the others. His expression was guarded as Eragon noticed how little space there was between Murtagh and Nasuada.

Orik stood besides Murtagh. He did not look much different than he had twenty years ago. This was expected as dwarves live very long lives. The one noticeable thing that had changed was Orik's demeanor. He held his head a little higher. His body language seemed more rigid and stately.

Finally he turned to his cousin. Roran looked much older, Eragon realized. There were lines on his face and patches of gray in his hair.

No one said anything. There was a good fifteen seconds of silence before Roran finally shuffled forward to Eragon.

"Brother, I—" Eragon started, but then Roran pulled him into a rough hug. The rest of Eragon's phrase was lost. The boat around them cheered.

"I've missed you, Eragon," Roran finally said, letting go of Eragon and ruffling his hair. Eragon cracked a smile.

"And you, Roran," Eragon responded warmly. He then turned to Nasuada and Murtagh. Nasuada had a large grin on her face.

"You don't look like you've aged a day," Nasuada teased, taking a step forward. Nasuada then without warning wrapped Eragon into a friendly hug. Eragon smiled as she let go.

"Okay, let me through," Orik grumbled, making his way to Eragon, before exclaiming a cheerful cry of "Brother!" Orik then shook Eragon's hand, pulling him into a half hug. Eragon stooped over to make up for the height difference. Twenty years may have passed but Eragon felt the comfort of friendship still existed between him and the group of people around him.

Eragon then went on to serve as the link between Saphira and everyone else as they exchanged various greetings.

"So when do we get to see this island you have told us so much about?" Roran said lightly to Eragon.

"We can start ferrying people across the mountains soon," Eragon started, "We're just waiting for—"

Eragon didn't get the chance to finish his thought. At that moment a cheerful roar resounded. Everyone looked towards the source of the noise.

Descending towards the boat was an emerald dragon and his fair, elven rider.

**A/N** _Hello lovely readers!_

_I apologize that this chapter is relatively short. This week has been crazy and I haven't had a lot of time to write. I know details about people (like Elva, Angela, Orik, etc.) and what they have been up to have been vague thus far but do not fret. I haven't forgotten about them, I shall cover it all in time. _

_A special thanks to all those who reviewed last chapter. I'm always hesitant about adding in an OC. The feedback I got was both helpful and encouraging._

_For those who care, I'm thinking Friday/Saturday will be the day I update this story every week. _

_I'd love to know what you think! Feel free to leave a review. Thanks! Bae_

_**Update as of 11/14/12: I apologize for briefly disappearing. Things in real life have gotten crazy. Do not worry, I promise I am coming back. I also had a little bit of a writer's block but now have it all worked out now. Within about a week and a half I should have it updated with at least one if not two chapters. You guys are awesome. ~Bae**_


	5. Chapter 5

The sky was clear and blue above them. White, fluffy clouds stretched scenically as far as they could see. Arya could feel locks of her long, ebony hair being tossed in the wind as they descended towards the ship.

_There are many two-legged ones_ Fíren noted _It is most unusual._

_Yes it is_ Arya agreed as she observed the party below. Guests were a rare occurrence at New Vroengard. In addition, it had been at least ten years since she or Fíren had seen any of them. Arya reflected upon the winding road that had brought her to this island.

It had been late summer in Du Weldenvarden. The forest was bursting with life. Green was everywhere one looked. The wind whistled soft and sweet through the swaying branches of ancient trees.

Arya gazed longingly out of the window from her small, tidy, office like room. It was so tedious to be stuck inside on such a beautiful day like this. More so, the reports she was sorting through were growing more and more worrisome as the afternoon progressed.

_What's wrong?_ Fíren echoed faintly from many miles away. Arya could feel his mind and sense that he was already starting to turn around and fly to her. With a wary glance at her most recent of letter, Arya decided to wait until Fíren was there. She desired nothing more the break free of that suffocating room and have air to clear her thoughts. Fíren respected Arya's desire to keep it to herself until he arrived.

A few moments later there was a heavy rush of wind from outside the room. Arya glanced out to see Fíren. His bright emerald scales fantastically outshone the greens of the leaves that surrounded him. He was perched on heavy branch outside the window. With one lithe jump Arya leaped out the window and onto his back. He had on his light, leather saddle, for which Arya was grateful.

Once Fíren was sure that his rider was secure on his back, he jumped into the air. He extended his wings which caught on a current and lifted them both up into the air. With a few powerful flaps there were soon soaring high above the wooded, elven capital.

They flew without word or thought for at least half an hour. Fíren could sense Arya's worry but chose to ignore it. He could feel her unease ebbing away as they flew through the air.

Finally Arya's mind reached out for his.

_I received a letter from Osilon today. There is further news about Mara and Rua. _Upon the mention of this young rider and dragon Arya noticed a matching sense of worry emanating from Fíren.

Mara was a young elf from Osilon. Young might be an overstatement. Being only twelve years old, Mara was a child. A baby, in Arya's eyes. Arya could remember the first time she had met the girl.

The plan had been to meet Vanir in Osilon, as it was the first time he had returned from the outside world back to Du Weldenvarden that year. He was carrying on the duty of ambassador, which involved ferrying a dragon egg in search for someone it would hatch for. Arya had invited Vanir to come with her to venture around the city so they would have time for Vanir to relate the events of the past year. The egg had not hatched for Urgal, dwarf, or human. Vanir expressed his concern that this particular egg had been dormant for too long. When they had returned back to the dwelling where Vanir was spending the week, they were shocked to discover that someone had wandered inside.

Security in Du Weldenvarden was never thought to be an issue, most especially for a dragon egg. The respect all elves had for dragons overpowered any action one may take to harm one. Arya and Vanir were beyond surprise to discover lanterns illuminated from within. They rushed inside to see who was there.

To this day, the sight absolutely shocked Arya. There in the center of the room was the child, whom Arya would come to know was named Mara. Even for an elf child, Mara was exceptionally fair. She had long, flowing locks of golden blonde hair that stretched all the way down her back. She was petite even for a child, with her tiny hands and button nose, but she was still lean and slender like any other elf. That was not the astonishing part.

Arya was startled to see the purple fragments of a dragon shell littering the room. And in the arms of the beautiful elven child was a newly hatched dragon, playfully licking her face. A chime like giggle echoed around the room from the girl. Arya felt utter dread, starting to think of the consequences that were at hand.

This dragon had hatched for a child, an infant, for one whose life had barely begun. There was a reason that the age limit to be presented to a dragon egg was twenty. A child as a dragon rider, especially an eleven child, could be extremely volatile and powerful. They would require especially strict training and observation to keep them from becoming too powerful and too destructive. This child would need to be whisked away from her parents, who would no doubt have strong opposition to let her go, as children among the elves were a rare and wonderful gift. This child would be treated as an adult from this day forward. Her entire childhood would be gone in the blink of an eye, sent away to New Vroengard for training.

Almost immediately guilt overcame Arya. What had she done, allowing Vanir to leave the egg along for an hour or so? How could she not foresee the remote possibility of this ever happening? Neither she nor Vanir could say a word; both of them still processing what was before them.

The next week blurred by. Almost immediately after the truth was discovered, the elves became divided on the issue. Half of them wanted Mara and Rua, the name of the lilac dragon, gone as soon as possible. The other half was appalled at the thought of letting her go. Mara was a child, how could they just send her away, ripping all the joys and wonder of youth with it?

Arya was torn on the issue. As much as she understood that it was dangerous not to send Mara and Rua away as soon as possible, Arya felt a sense of fierce protection spike up inside of her as well. Even though Mara had snuck into Vanir's quarters and the egg had accidentally hatched, it was not Mara's fault. Mara deserved to enjoy her childhood, as it was fleeting and life was long. This was something that no matter what happened, it could never be given back to her. Did Arya have the power to take that away? Finally the issue was decided. Mara would stay in Du Weldenvarden under strict conditions.

Arya would be Mara's teacher and guide, spending her time in Osilon looking after the child. Fíren would do his best to instruct Rua. Their instruction would be basic. Enough to distract the two hatchlings from the great power they were capable of, but not enough to feed that power and allow it to grow. It was designed to be frustrating and time consuming, so that Mara and Rua would not have time to focus on much else when they were in training.

Initially this plan satisfied most of the elves. As long as Arya was willing to take on the responsibility of this enormous issue, the elves could accept it. However, there were still a number that outright opposed it. They did not believe that Arya would be able to successfully curb the child's growing abilities.

Elf children were even more powerful than grown elves. Without the added power that comes with being a dragon rider, they could be dangerous if provoked or pushed to extremes. Becoming a rider and being under this stress could definitely qualify as an extreme.

Initially this plan had worked out all right. Arya was able to bring most of her work and responsibilities along with her to Osilon. Months passed as Rua and Mara grew together. Rua grew larger, eventually big enough for Mara to fly with her. Over time, however, Arya could no longer neglect certain duties. Ellesméra needed her. Finally Arya was forced to return, leaving Mara under the supervision of Baeldar.

Baeldar was a very old elf, almost as old as Rhunön. He was also extremely skilled in magic. Although never a rider himself, he had trained with the first generation of riders many years ago. He knew enough magic that while Arya was gone he could keep Mara under control.

Arya was able to return to Osilon soon, however it seemed that the longer she stayed there, the greater the responsibilities in Ellesméra grew. She would eventually need to be gone from Osilon for weeks at a time, overseeing and taking care of various things in the capital.

_Those hatchlings are nothing but trouble_ Fíren grumbled. Arya agreed reluctantly.

_Baeldar says we need to return as soon as possible, as Mara and Rua are causing trouble again _Arya thought to Fíren.

That was the other growing problem. The longer that Arya and Fíren were gone, the more trouble that Mara and Rua were getting into. It started out small. Mara and Rua disappeared for a few hours in the woods without telling anyone. Or Mara would refuse to return home, instead preferring to fly with Rua into all hours of the night. However then things escalated. Rua set a section of the woods near Osilon on fire, which reached the city and destroyed part of it. Mara had somehow discovered the use of magic without the ancient language, which resulted in numerous accidents, not limited to explosions, the death of animals, and nearly killing Mara from the energy it was draining from her. Mara and Rua were beginning to become out of hand.

_What trouble is it this time? _Fíren asked.

_Baeldar wouldn't say. His letter was short, saying only that we need to come as soon as possible_ Arya responded.

_You should write to Eragon and see what he thinks about all this_ Fíren finally stated. Worry filled Arya's mind. That was the one thing she had purposefully neglected to do throughout this process; tell Eragon what was going on. She knew he would disapprove of what was happening. Had he known, he might have flown here himself to collect Mara and Rua. But Arya could not let the happen, for then all she had worked for would be destroyed. She could sense Fíren's disapproval as this thought crossed her mind.

_What would you have me do?_ Arya finally snapped at him.

_You need to send Mara and Rua away_. _The responsibilities of being both a dragon rider and the queen are too much for you to handle, and now things are slipping through the cracks. You cannot dedicate your entire life to both assisting Mara and Rua and ruling the elves. _

Arya didn't respond for a few minutes.

_You know I am right, too_. _You have known for a while now._ Fíren finally said.

_I…. I know _Arya admitted.

_So are we off to Osilon now? _Fíren asked. Arya confirmed this. It was only a few hours flight, and all they would need would be provided for them when they arrived. Arya's sword was with her so they did not need to land. Fíren directed himself in the right direction and they were off to Osilon.

**A/N** _Hey guys! Sorry for my little hiatus. Things got crazy but now I'm back. I had a bit of writer's block but I've got the rest of the plot figured out now so it's all good now. Thank you for still reading, you're awesome. Review, I would love to know what you think! Love, Bae_


	6. Chapter 6

The journey passed quickly. Anxiety dominated Arya's every thought.

Before long they were descending towards Osilon. The sun had set in the sky and darkness was creeping over the land. Below the city was eerily quiet. Even the animals had realized that not all was quite right in the world as indicated by the utter lack of sound. Arya's mind delicately reached out to her surroundings, searching for Baeldar. She quickly located his mind.

_Baeldar, Fíren and I are here. Shall we come meet you? _Arya questioned. She waited for a response. However, a reply never came.

_Baeldar? _Arya asked again. Baeldar did not seem aware of Arya inside of his mind. He was distracted by something else. What that something was, his mind would not relinquish.

_Arya, Rua and Mara are with him too. I can sense them there, _Fíren interrupted.

_Let us go to them, quickly,_ Arya replied, uneasiness spilling into her thoughts. Fíren directed himself towards their minds, folding his wings into his body and slipping into a dive. They gained speed at an unreasonably dangerous rate. They were nearing the ground by Baeldar's small hut.

_Fíren, _Arya warned frantically, taking into account both their speed and proximity to the ground. But he did not slow.

_We are going to crash!_ Arya cried out.

_Be ready to jump the second I hit the ground, Baeldar needs you, _Fíren said in a surprisingly calm tone. Arya could now feel the intense waves of fear emanating from Baeldar.

_Fíren, please pull up; you're going to get yourself killed!_ Arya exclaimed, but still obediently unloosened the straps of the saddle that were holding her legs in place.

_Trust me Arya, it's going to be okay. I know what I'm— _Fíren started. But he didn't finish before they hit the ground full on.

Fíren's massive body hit the ground first. The impact shook the earth around them. The second they hit Arya leaped off Fíren's back. With a solid jump she flew through the air and landed solidly on her feet.

She glanced back at Fíren. He had tumbled over to absorb the impact. Arya realized that had she stayed on his back she would have been crushed alive beneath his weight. In the ground was a deep trench of fresh dirt where Fíren had hit the clearing. Fíren shakily rose to his feet, shaking off the dirt and grass the covered his entire body.

_Are you alright?_ Arya asked worriedly.

_Arya, I'm fine. We need to help Baeldar, go!_ Fíren said. Without hesitation Arya then sprinted into Baeldar's small dwelling.

But Arya knew it was all wrong before she had even entered the room. The world around her felt empty. The minds that should have been there were not.

Arya raced through the door. Within the small, dark hut was a terrible site that Arya knew would haunt her for the rest of her life.

The entire room was splattered with gore. Small bits of flesh littered the floor. The walls were coated with blood and other bits of what was once part a body. Everywhere Arya looked were fragments of skin or guts.

And right in the center of this mess was the limp, lifeless form of a small child. Her empty, sapphire eyes were looking right at Arya. The girl was hardly recognizable amidst the carnage surrounding her.

"Mara…" Arya whispered in horror. Arya took an unsteady step forward, but her legs gave up beneath her. A terrible wail broke through her lips as she crashed to her knees. This was all wrong.

She crawled on the ground towards the small body. She reached for Mara and dragged her head into her lap. Tears escaped Arya's eyes and flowed down her face. Arya wiped her hand across Mara's small, moon pale face, trying to remove some of the gore. Arya's willowy fingers fluttered over Mara's eyes to close them, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Those dark, empty, azure eyes stared at Arya accusingly.

Arya wept sorrowfully. What had she done? Baeldar was dead. Baeldar, the legendary, ancient elf who had fought valiantly against the Foresworn. Mara was also dead, assumedly from taking on a spell too powerful to complete without taking her own life. All of Arya's good intentions and efforts had only come to doom the very person she was trying to save.

She could have lain there for days reveling in that deep, dark pit of absolute misery, but Fíren awoke her from the nightmare.

Outside he released an ear-splitting roar. Arya stumbled to her feet and hurried outside, her small feet sliding through the butchery.

Descending upon Fíren was a raging, purple dragon.

_Rua. _Arya despaired at the ferocious sight as Rua released a bright spurt of fire. Rua landed on the ground and let out a heart-wrenching roar. Arya attempted to reach into Rua's mind.

_We tried to stop her, but the spell she tried was too powerful and— _Arya started.

_NO! You killed her!_ Rua cried in anguish, mentally shouting in a voice that made Arya's head ring. Without another word Rua leaped at Fíren, her fangs going right for his outstretched neck. Although he was much larger and slower than Rua, Fíren was able to dart out of the way, dropping right to the ground so she flew over him. Rua growled in aggravation as she hit the ground on the other side of Fíren.

Fíren then leaped into the air, spreading his wings to gain the strategic position of being above Rua. Arya felt Fíren trying to calm Rua all the while, trying to explain to her that it wasn't his and Arya's fault. But it didn't seem to make any difference.

Rua jumped right into the air after him, releasing another jet of fire. Fíren flew higher to get out of her range. Rua raced after him. Fíren was much slower than Rua and before long the smaller dragon had over taken him. She darted towards him. Fíren once again tried to dodge her but was a moment to slow. Rua's sharp talons buried themselves in Fíren's soft underbelly.

Arya cringed as Fíren let out a roar of pain. Rua released Fíren and then sped up above him, gaining the upper hand. Fíren then flew away from her, forcing her to follow him in pursuit.

_Fíren, why aren't you fighting back? _Arya asked worriedly.

_She is merely a hatchling. I am stronger and bigger than she is. If I fight back it wouldn't be fair. I might accidently kill her, _Fíren responded, _and she has just lost her rider. She is not in her right mind. _Arya agreed reluctantly, watching fearfully as Rua again and again attacked Fíren and Fíren merely defended himself by escape maneuvers and warning jets of fire.

Arya tried to reach Rua again with her mind. But Rua was beyond consolation. Arya was shocked when she touched Rua's mind. It was as if something inside of Rua had snapped. Something foundationally important for one's sanity had been broken. Rua's mind was an uncontrollable tangle of rage and pain. However it was different than Glaedr's mind after he had lost Oromis. Arya remember how Glaedr had completely shut down, his mind closing in on himself in a vault of desolation and hurt. But this was different. It felt as though Rua's entire mind was becoming unraveled. Arya felt herself being pulled into the dissonant, chaotic music of Rua's thoughts and quickly fought to find a way out. Arya battled mentally to disentangle her own mind from somewhere she knew that if she was pulled into, she might never be able to escape.

After a few moments of battling the turmoil of Rua's thoughts, Rua finally released Arya. Arya collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion, a sheen of cold sweat breaking out across her brow.

_Arya, look out!_ cried Fíren from above. Arya looked up to see Rua coming towards her, a ferocious snarl etched across Rua's face.

Arya barely had time to roll out of the way before Rua hit the ground, attempting to land on top of Arya.

Rua roared in anger, breathing fire towards Arya. Arya leaped out of the way, however the tips of her hair getting caught in the inferno. Arya smelled burning and rapidly batted the ends of her hair to extinguish the tiny flames. However Rua was heavy in pursuit.

Without a second thought Arya leaped into the trees to escape Rua. She leaped from branch to branch across the trees, moving deeper and deeper into the woods. Behind her, Rua crashed through the trees, trying to follow Arya. However the trees were becoming denser and closer together as they continued.

Finally Rua gave up and jumped into the air, crashing through layers of branches to reach the open sky.

_Fíren, can you see Rua? What is she doing?_ Arya called out mentally.

_She has just broken through the trees, still in pursuit of you. _Fíren responded almost immediately_, I am going to hang around back here and watch. Are you well hidden?_

Arya sent him an image of where she was, nestled in the hallow of a grand, old oak tree.

_Good, _Fíren thought, _let's giver her time to calm down._

_Fíren, I don't know if she's going to be okay_, Arya thought worriedly, before conveying her earlier experience in Rua's mind. Fíren was not sure what to think either.

All of a sudden, Arya felt a pang of despair.

_I wish Eragon was here. He might know what to do_. Arya thought longingly to Fíren. Fíren was silent for a few moments.

_You really miss him._ Fíren finally responded. Arya did not say anything. She could not hide herself from Fíren. He knew every thought. And he was absolutely right.

Arya missed Eragon more than she ever thought possible. She missed the feeling of security that came with his presence. Maybe it was the result of surviving so many ordeals together, but without him around there was something missing from her life. There was a sense of vulnerability that came with his absence. Arya felt like there was a part of her that he had always cared for and protected. Arya realized it was a ridiculous notion to think that she needed in any way to be protected. She was a ferocious warrior in and of herself. She didn't need Eragon to look after her. But there was a part of her that wanted him there to do it anyway. With Eragon there Arya felt safe. For one of the first times in forever he had become someone she could let her guard down around and not have to worry about anything else.

Once again, her emotions bubbled within her. It was a feeling that she had so long shut away either because it was not an appropriate time to approach it or because she did not understand it.

As unlikely as it seemed, when hiding in a tree from a rampaging dragon that was hunting for her, Arya felt a desire to bring that feeling back. A feeling that she had thought she had locked away forever the day that Eragon had left Alagaësia.

Her thoughts were disrupted however by a hissing noise above her. Arya looked up in dismay to see that the branches above her had become ignited. She quickly scrambled down the tree and into a small clearing in the forest. Around her the fire was catching, growing quickly. Waves of distress filled the air.

_The trees! _Arya thought. Rua was killing them. Smoke was filling the air. Arya felt a sense of claustrophobia, as if the land itself was suffocating her.

_Fíren what's going on? Where is Rua?_ Arya asked him

_I'm not sure! I can't see her with all this smoke in the air,_ Fíren thought to her.

Then, out of the haze, Arya saw Rua emerge in an angry cloud, letting out a vicious thunder. Rua landed right in front of Arya, causing the ground to shake beneath her.

Arya crouched down, reading to pounce.

Rua, however, had ideas of her own. She moved to circle around Arya, whipping her tail back and forth and licking her lips. Arya felt panic starting to well up inside her of her. Her sword had been lost back at Baeldar's hut when she and Fíren had crash landed.

Then without warning Rua leaped at Arya. Arya tried to jump out of the way but Rua anticipated her and batted her down with a powerful swish of her tail. Arya felt the air knocked out of her and was flung to the ground, landing with a heavy smack.

A heavy talon planted itself on her chest, pinning Arya to the ground. An angry growl rumbled in Rua's chest.

_This is all your fault_ came a mocking, unfamiliar, sing song voice. Arya gasped in shock to realize that it was Rua talking to her. She sounded like an absolute maniac. There was no sense of anything but madness emanating from Rua's mind. A sense of despair came over Arya in processing the weight of Rua's words. Rua was right, this was all her fault. Arya closer her eyes as the weight of Rua on her chest grew heavier and heavier. Arya's breath caught in her chest and she had trouble inhaling. This was it, Arya thought. Arya heard an unpleasant cracking sound as her ribs gave in beneath Rua.

_Arya no! _came Fíren's thoughts out of the gloom. But Arya could not think straight. Her mind was starting to blur, as the lack of oxygen seemed to halt all thoughts in their tracks. All she could focus on was the growing darkness that was coming to consume her. Arya fought it at first, but soon relinquished. There was no hope of escape, why not embrace it? She allowed to blackness to seep into her thoughts and consume her consciousness.

All of a sudden the darkness started to disappear. Air. Sweet, bubbles of air flowed down her throat as the heavy darkness was lifted off of her. She heard a violent crash and opened her eyes.

Besides her she saw two dragons viciously tearing at each other's throats. They tumbled and fought as the forest around them continued to burn in a brilliant spectacle.

Once again, however, Arya felt the blackness returning for her. She was too weak to resist. A deep aching emanated from her chest and each breath she took was labored. A roar of absolute pain shattered the world around her. She wasn't sure which dragon had released the noise. Her eyelids fluttered close and the last thing she pictured in her mind before being completely taken over by the darkness was the image of a well missed companion, his sweet face gazing at her worriedly from far, far away.


End file.
